Worth
by Nara Merald
Summary: So he tells himself again, and truly he believes it, "It was worth it."


**It was worth it**

_It was worth it,_ he thinks, as his vision blanks and his body finally understands that it's okay to collapse now. When he wakes up next, his mind is fuzzy and there's something he has to remember and OhGodWhereAreTheChildrenAreT heyOkay?! Someone is trying to calm him down, there's a beeping noise and then nothing…  
He wakes again and there's someone waiting carefully by his bedside. As he stirs, they lower themselves to his level.  
"JT? My name is doctor…" the words fade as he interrupts them, repeating his request. Are they okay?! They are. Finally he can relax and for the first time, he registers the aches in his body. The doctor begins speaking again, telling him how sick he was but Jimmy doesn't care. They survived- Kevin, Allen, Suzy…. They survived.__

It was worth it, he thinks, to take that beating and get the hell away from Frank. That douchebag didn't deserve his dad's car and who cared what Winona thought anyway. He ignores the stab of mental pain (although there's some pretty stabbing physical pains too) that the memory of Winona brings, but she was never really his mother. He wonders idly what Sam is doing, then cursing, blanks the thought forcefully from his mind, the common mixture of rage, resentment, fear, love and understanding accompanying it. The scars, he thinks, will be an unwanted companion for life; just another one of many, although of course Starfleet gave the best treatment that money could buy. Pity they were too late for everyone else on Tarsus.  
Either way, he's never going back, not to Tarsus, not to that hell hole called 'Home'. What a joke. He finds a place that looks semi-sheltered and decides to bunk down for the night. It's foreign and uncomfortable, but he has no regrets this time.

_It was worth it_, he thinks, when he looks at his crew, unscathed and crowding around him, clamoring for his attention. He understands when Bones finds excuses to scan him every 5 seconds with a tricorder, and jab him with so many hyposprays that surely it can't be good for him. He understands when Scotty seems to sync his eating habits to Jims, though Jim swears he should be sleeping now. He understands when Uhura seems to walk the same hallways as him, when Chekov requests advice on flirting with Sulu and continually seems to fail. He is slightly surprised, but even understands when Spock finds himself bored and in need of a chess challenge. Sulu wants to discuss steering maneuvers and Giotto has expressed a need for further combat tactics discussions. His recovery is slow but steady, learning to walk again does take time and a patience he finds he barely has. It's humiliating at times, but Chapel has proven unexpectedly sensitive, and Kevin has spent a lot of time just sitting quietly with him, without any pressure. He gets to his feet again with renewed determination; a little thing like this isn't going to get him down.

"_It was worth it,"_ he whispers harshly to himself, flicking on the light and starting at himself in the bathroom mirror. The nightmares leave him on edge, panting as he tries to calm his body down. Logically, he knows he's fine, he's on the enterprise, his crew are with him, he's okay. Physically, the adrenaline is coursing through his body, his reactions are hair trigger and he can't quite resist his eyes darting around the room, searching for foes and escape routes. The crew don't know about these times; he flirts with the girls enough to pass for his old self, but he can never let them stay, never let them see what happens when he falls asleep… never trust them while he's vulnerable. He knows what happens when he falls asleep, he knows the pain that comes next.  
He knows logically he's safe, knows he can sleep, knows he doesn't need the phaser beneath his pillow, the knife strapped to his ankle. He knows too, that people die in a second, and if he's unprepared, the screams start and…  
He splashes water on his face, stars again at his famous blue eyes. Closes them. Opens them. He sighs quietly and leaves the lights on, moving back to sit on his bed, resigning himself to another sleepless night. He's trying to relax; he picks up the book… but his back is to the wall, his knife is strapped to his leg, his eyes scan the room periodically and his phaser is within arm's reach. He's done this too many times now to wonder if he'll ever be "normal". But, he supposes wryly, that's life, and he doesn't regret it.

So he tells himself again, and truly he believes it, "_It was worth it."_

-

-

It's dark, and he's lonely, and the shadows in his room are so big. Jimmy knows mum said they're not real, but the noises at night are frightening and the patterns on the wall loom over his bed. Sam's asleep in the next room, and grabbing his teddy, Jim toddles in, accidentally knocking the door and waking Sam.  
"Jimmy?" Sam calls sleepily and Jim nods.  
"Ah, it's okay… hop in," Sam says, resigned to this semi-regular occurrence.  
"Mum didn't wake up?" Sam asks, turning over and preparing to go back to sleep. Jimmy doesn't say anything, not wanting to admit that he didn't ask. He bites his lips on her harsh words, telling himself that she didn't mean what she said last time, it was just a bad night.  
And as he lies there, soothed by Sam's regular breathing, he wonders sadly why he's so bad that even his mum said he wasn't worth it.


End file.
